Archive for the ‘Frank Hudson’ Tag
Early Morning In Tucson’s Sabino Canyon — Image by kenne
On December 29, 2024, I posted “There ain’t no substitute,” a line from my poem, “Under Tucson Skies.”
Under Tucson skies
Desiring the wings to fly
In a sky so deep blue
Satisfied to walk my days
Under Tucson skies.
Sometimes I get a little lost
Acting like a kid flying high
I don’t know why
the thrill is still here
Satisfied under Tucson skies.
I know it ain’t just
one of those things
It’s something so nice
So I can’t get use to
Something so right.
I see beautiful colors
I want to write about
But there ain’t no substitute
For the real thing
I know there ain’t no substitute.
After the posting, I received a comment from a blogger I follow,
Frank Hudson. “
Reading under Tucson Skies makes me think it could be sung. — Working on music for it today. You might hear it soon.” Frank is a poet and musician with an ongoing project, “Parlando – Where Music and Words Meet.” I love his Dylanesque style of music.
On my birthday, January 15th, Frank sent a link to the music. I remain profoundly moved.
Under Tucson Skies
Read the rest of this entry »
‘The Sky is low — the Clouds are mean’ — Image by kenne
A few days ago, Frank Hudson posted an analysis of this little poem by Emily Dickinson. I continue to learn a lot from Frank’s posts, his summaries, and music.
His efforts remind me of my sophomore English teacher, who was dealt the hand of teaching an all jock class of young boys. During every class, she would read at least one poem. She was like the mother taking her children to the museum, hoping to instill some humanity. At the time, we thought she was wasting her’s and our time. Time has proven otherwise.
Although I don’t have anywhere near Frank’s analysis skills, I enjoy reading and learning from his posts.
— kenne
The Sky is low — the Clouds are mean.
A Travelling Flake of Snow
Across a Barn or through a Rut
Debates if it will go —
A Narrow Wind complains all Day
How some one treated him
Nature, like Us is sometimes caught
Without her Diadem.
— Emily Dickinson
Horse Lubber Grasshopper — Photo-Artistry by kenne
One of the many bloggers I follow is “The Parlando Project – Where Music and Words Meet,” where Frank Hudson presents short audio pieces, from 2 to 10 minutes in length, combining music and spoken word in various ways.
On July 31st Frank posted “On the Grasshopper and Cricket.” Click here to read Frank’s story on what lead him to combine music with the Keats poem and listen to the audio.
On the Grasshopper and Cricket
The Poetry of earth is never dead:
When all the birds are faint with the hot sun,
And hide in cooling trees, a voice will run
From hedge to hedge about the new-mown mead;
That is the Grasshopper’s—he takes the lead
In summer luxury,—he has never done
With his delights; for when tired out with fun
He rests at ease beneath some pleasant weed.
The poetry of earth is ceasing never:
On a lone winter evening, when the frost
Has wrought a silence, from the stove there shrills
The Cricket’s song, in warmth increasing ever,
And seems to one in drowsiness half lost,
The Grasshopper’s among some grassy hills.
— John Keats
